


The Axe and Bow in Bree

by AlexFlex



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Anal Sex, Bathing/Washing, Established Relationship, M/M, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Self-Esteem Issues, Smelly Gimli, Top Legolas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-24 17:07:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21681451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexFlex/pseuds/AlexFlex
Summary: Legolas and Gimli are in an established relationship but Gimli still has doubts about how an Elf really sees a Dwarf.Edit: This is one of my favourite stories - I hope you enjoy it.
Relationships: Gimli (Son of Glóin)/Legolas Greenleaf
Comments: 30
Kudos: 120
Collections: The Two Thousand Fics on AO3 Gigolas Challenge





	The Axe and Bow in Bree

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [2000GigolasFics](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/2000GigolasFics) collection. 



The evening had lost sunset’s last colours ere we approached the gates of Bree. The sound of the hooves caused the small aperture at the gate to open and the sight of Legolas astride Arod, caused the gates themselves to be flung open by the gatekeeper at the lodge. It would have been an otherworldly sight that met the gatekeeper as both Legolas’ silver hair and the horse’s white mane cast an ethereal glow but on the back of the horse, in my now accustomed place I brought earthiness and solidity to the pretty picture they painted.

Up the gentle slope we rode until we drew up outside the inn with its three stories and many windows. The wide arc led to the familiar courtyard and light streamed out of the open door. A merry song rang from inside.

As we travelled from place to place, often my Elf would tumble me under the stars. Tonight, however we welcomed the prospect of a comfortable night’s rest.

I smiled up at Legolas and his eyes turned to meet mine. His long, lithe figure was clad only in flimsy Elven nonsense. The time of war was past and armour no longer in our daily wardrobe, though my mithril corslet I wore daily under my shirt, at the Elf’s insistence. Arod had no reins, so the Elf spoke a word in his ear and the horse stood still. Then Mr Butterbur, the innkeeper of the Prancing Pony inn rushed forward to meet us.

“Well met, my Lords!” he cried. His endless stream of praise and chatter wrapped around us.

Wordlessly Legolas reached to the side and untied a brace of rabbits and pheasants and handed them to the man who received them with another lower bow and effusive thanks.

Still, I held onto his waist and could feel the heat rising from him as I held firm. Legolas quirked an eyebrow at me and I dipped my chin in assent. An uncoiled spring, he effortlessly leapt down from the horse then in an instant I had strong hands round my waist and he placed me again on the firm ground whose solidity I welcomed.

To think that in the early days of our acquaintance I had thought him frail and childlike. He had a core of mithril both physically and within.

I huffed and grumbled under my breath at the indignity of my descent while my Elf breathed a laugh.

The smells of ale and smoke reached out warmly around us as we entered the inn. As always, for a moment conversation stopped. The gathering was large and mixed in the big Common-Room of the inn. The lamps hanging from the beams cast a dim light over the benches of various folk. The broad, brown-haired men of Bree looked up and suspicious eyes glared for a moment then ducked back down to their foaming tankards. The traumas of the War of the Ring had left their mark even here, and the cheerful friendliness that was characteristic of these lands was now not as quick to come forth as before.

We had sent riders from Ithilien ahead of us to prepare for our arrival and as at the all previous settlements, they had stopped here at the inn and sent tidings on to the Shire that in two days we would be there. We followed the innkeeper to the parlour which had been set aside and readied for our arrival. The room was small and cosy with a cheerful fire burning even on this summer eve.

Legolas and I removed our travelling cloaks, and these were received by the innkeeper with another low bow. From my belt came my broad-headed axe. Legolas took off his bow and quiver and placed them beside my axe on the sideboard.

The table was spread with white cloth and the serving woman brought in candles and a tray full of plates.

She placed a small bowl of warm water on the sideboard.

“I’ll be sending the hot water to your room, my Lords, while you eat your supper.”

She curtseyed then turned away, closing the door behind herself. I let the Elf wash his hands and face first then went to the sideboard did the same, using the remaining water and drying my beard with the cloth provided.

The first time we had stayed here many years ago, they had tried to offer us single rooms, then when we refused, a room with two beds, but we would not be parted regardless of the uneasiness it caused some.

Legolas sat on the chair and leant back.

“So, master Dwarf, have our journeyings on Arod left you too discomposed to partake of the ale of Bree and to smoke your pipe?”

In the early days of our friendship, on a certain occasion the Elf had said something Elvish and foolish, I no longer remember what. My response had been to say ‘Lad, is your Elven head made of wood?!’ and I had proceeded to hit him on the head and rap my knuckles against his forehead as if it were a door.

This had become a joke to us and at his words, gently I reached up and lightly tapped my knuckles against his unlined forehead.

I reached for my pipe and I watched his grey eyes follow the pipe’s voyage from an inside pocket of my jerkin to my lips. His pupils darkened as he watched my lips and unconsciously, his pink tongue darted at his own lower lip. Teasing him now, I rolled the pipe around in my fingers and against my lips.

“Master Dwarf, you know better than to toy with me,” he said.

My nipples responded to the threat in his voice.

“Unless you wish to forfeit your evening meal and be attended to immediately, you will put down that pipe, or smoke it in the customary fashion.”

In truth, I needed a rest after the long ride. I needed a meal. I needed to bathe.

“Beloved, your attentions are all I desire, but a frail, pointy-eared Elvish princeling like yourself needs to be fed, lest the returned attentions of a Dwarf overwhelm you and I fear Elvish healers are few in this place.”

Then with my flint and tinder looked down as I lit my pipe then blew a ring of smoke at him.

The Elf knew of my weariness so permitted me the ‘victory’ and conceded that he was eating for my sake. Even this exchange left me feeling slightly breathless and my cheek flushed. After all these years, his gaze on me could kindle those coals in my breast, ever banked, awaiting but a gust to raise a blaze within.

The table was laid with hot turnip soup, a hearty mutton stew, cold meats, a peach tart, new loaves and slabs of butter with a ripe cheese. Good plain food. There was also a big bowl of green things for the Elf.

The landlord came back into the room and hovered.

I said to him, “Though it is fine company in the common room, tonight we will not join you after we have supped. The Elf is weary from his journey and will go straight up to our room. On our return from the Shire we will share with you all the news, and the Elf shall sing you his songs as ever.”

At that he left with a quiet bow and again Legolas raised an eyebrow at me. I looked down and in silence ate my soup, spooning it carefully and making sure none got in my beard. The passage of time had granted us these silences. Together we could rest side by side. With a glance, with a touch know the other’s thoughts.

When the table was but crumbs, I stood and made for the narrow back stairs which led to our customary chamber. I took my axe in one hand and with the other I reached out behind me, not looking back and the Elf clasped it. I ran my thumb up his bow fingers and rubbed against the callouses.

“Soft girl’s hands, good only for making daisy-chains and such like,” I grumbled in a low voice.

“Master Dwarf,” he replied, his voice also thick and low. “I know you not for a teller of untruths. Know you well the skill of my hands.”

Unbidden, a slow blush crept up my neck, the heat moving slowly, and also moving down to my groin.

I coughed and said, “Be that as it may, we have an early start tomorrow.”

Warm would be our welcome in the Shire. Good food, a warm hearth and all the comforts of home could be found in a Hobbit hole. While perfect for a Dwarf, the rooms were cramped and the low beds uncomfortable for an Elf and he did not have restful nights there. Thus, before and after any visit to the Shire we stopped at this inn so that Legolas might have a good night’s rest, in a full-sized bed.

We reached the top of the stairs and opened the wooden door to our room. As ever, our packs had been delivered and were beside the bed, together with our travelling cloaks. The neat clean room was far from the splendour of some of the chambers in which we had lain, but it was the ideal respite. We had been up to inspect the rebuilding of Fornost, a full day’s ride to the north of Bree, prior to our arrival here.

I took from him his bow and quiver and laid them against the wall beside my axe, next to our luggage, aware of the intimacy of handling his weapon. I crouched down and began to pull off his soft, brown leather shoes. His hand reached down and brushed against my dark hair. We did not light the lamp and by the glow of the fire and by the light of the moon through the window we saw our way.

  
oooOOOOooo

Gimli’s hair had been one of the first shocks I encountered in my dealings with the Dwarf. Concerning the Dwarves, strange tales are told and I had known Durin’s folk to be a race apart. Gimli’s stubbornness and unsmiling visage had confirmed my knowledge that they were a dour and joyless people. Everything about them was hard and unlovely. It was said that they carved their very children from the rocks and well I could believe that. It was only when, in the early days of the fellowship, that my hand had brushed against the Dwarf’s low head and a surprise met me. I had expected it to scratch, to be rough. It was not. It was like soft wool, and like flowing water all at once. In an instant I had drawn back my hand, but in my mind was planted the desire to touch it again.

Here now, in our chamber I carded my fingers through his hair as he untied my shoes. My fingers quickly worked to untie the braids I had put there in the morning and a small sigh of satisfaction came from his lips. I bent down and placed a gentle kiss on the top of his head, and the earthy smells that were Gimli gently wove around me.

I pulled my tunic over my head and put it on the chair beside the bed and undid the lacings of my trousers. Gimli stood and began to do the same, avoiding my gaze. Placing his shirt and leather jerkin on the chair, he removed the mithril mail, then stood in his white undershirt. The armpits and back were stained with sweat from our long, hot ride earlier.

He braced himself with one hand on my shoulder as I crouched to untie his boots and pull them off and then the thick woollen socks. He unfastened his trousers and removed them, placing them on the pile of clothes on the chair and stood in his white linen undershirt and breechcloth.

The set up was one the inn had now perfected. A small, empty tub, an empty bucket and small washboard stood to the side of the fireplace. Next to them was a large wooden tub, half-filled with warm water. This was before the fire and had been covered with a cloth to keep in the heat of the steaming water. Gimli removed the cloth and dipped the bucket into large the tub and scooped out some water and poured it into the second, smaller, tub.

I too stood in my under linen.

“To your bath, Elf,” he commanded gruffly, “but first give me your underclothes.”

I stripped silently and quickly then Gimli took my silk undergarments and turned his back to me as I stepped into the larger tub before the fire. I rested my head back against the lip of the tub and closed my eyes, enjoying the water’s warmth.

Gimli placed my undergarments in the water of the small tub then rubbed them all over with soap and after washing them briefly, quickly rinsed them in the water remaining in the bucket. After an efficient wringing he hung them by the fire to dry.

I watched as he removed his own white linen underclothes and placed them inside the small tub to soak. His coppery hair covered his body, from head to toe.

I closed my eyes again and heard Gimli padding over to the chair with our clothing.

“I’m going to the privy,” he said, pulling back on his mithril, trousers, shirt and boots, then he slipped out of the room.

ooooOOOOoooo

In the early days of our relationship, Gimli and I had paid a visit to an Elvish settlement, for those remaining who had not yet heard the call of the sea. One night, l left Gimli asleep in our chambers to join the others at the evensong as we sang our nightly ode to the stars. Under the starlight, walking with the Lords of my people, the friends of my youth had teased me.

“Unnatural as it is, we can understand why the Dwarf yearns for you, dear Legolas, especially knowing what we do of those hideoous bearded Dwarvish women. Even to us, your beauty is known.”

“But you, friend!” said another. “With all that hair and that beard, to try and kiss him must be like trying to eat a berry from within a thicket of thorns. It is a wonder your face is not scratched beyond recognition.”

“Below must be worse,” another said with ribald laughter, “the axe he carries must be to cut through the brambles that grow around his lower parts.”

“Can the soap even reach those unclean parts!” called another.

Again, they laughed, and one made to raise my tunic.

“Let us see, Legolas, are you scratched on your fair body? From rolling in those brambles, or perhaps you have taken as a lover a small, sweaty bear and are scratched from its claws!”

At that, I grabbed at the wrist of the one attempting to raise my tunic. Sternly I spoke.

“You know not what you say. Speak no evil of Gimli and call me not ‘friend’ anyone who disparages my bonded or offers him insult, either before me or in my absence. I am proud to name Gimli son of Gloin as my bond-mate and I shall claim amends for every foolish word spoken here. I will have your apology else this becomes a matter between our houses.”

“Legolas, you have become as serious as a Dwarf yourself! We jest! Did you not enjoy our fair favours? Why now do you cast us aside for one such as him?” With this, the speaker suggestively lowered his tunic from one shoulder.

The sound of soft laughter rang over his head.

With a quiet and more serious voice another said,

“We do not understand. Why dost thou tarry with this mortal and not return over the Great Sea? Thine kindred have long ago departed.”

Legolas sat on the grass with his back against the tree. His companions now sat around him, some in the branches above him, some lay on the grass.

Quietly I spoke.

“At first I thought as you. I believed all the tales told of the Dwarves by our people. Indeed, they are a race apart. They are a tough, thrawn people, secretive, retentive of the memory of injuries and of benefits. But they are not evil. In the Fellowship of the Ring, as I walked beside him, fought beside him and grieved beside him I came to know his heart and to know his beauty. Aye, his beauty.”

“I know not how the seed of love came to my garden, but now it flourishes, Gimil nourishes my soul and it grieves me to know you do not see him as I do.”

One said, “to speak of him thus, makes us also want to taste of the sweetness of his fruit!”

“Ai,” I cried out, “but his loyalty is such that you shall never. Dwarves love but once and cleave to one only. You are right, I too am now as a Dwarf and shall not take another lover.”

Only silence met him, so he continued, now breathing heavily, the tips of his ears red.

“Gimli is an honoured Lord. Did not our Lady of the Galadhrim see fit to grant him the boon denied to Fëanor? He was the first Dwarf to behold the trees of the Naith of Lórien since Durin’s Day. Together with his, my heart dwells ever. I will have your apology. You speak evil of that which is fair, beyond the reach of your thoughts and only little wit can excuse you. The very gates of Khazad-dum suggest that even Celebrimbor and Navi may have known love such as ours.”

“Forget our harsh words, cousin,” said the serious voice. “We spoke in foolishness. It is known that each must move in accordance with his heart.”

At that the Elves had bowed low to me, making a deep reverence and kissing my feet in turn as a mark of deep apology. Then I left them, and sang alone till the dawn broke, then returned to our chamber finding Gimli still asleep.

Years later Gimli had told me that he had heard their jibes.

Gimli had taken pains to learn the Elven tongue, even the speech that the Silvan folk of the North used among themselves. His labours were known, and he had been led by one who told him to wait silently hidden in a hollow, out of sight of the evensong. Gimli had been lured saying it was I who had asked it. In truth they had hoped for Gimli to hear me speak ill of him, or perhaps even to witness my betrayal of him if they could persuade me to tumble with them.

Since that day, before we lay together Gimli always bathed. He said he did not want to disgust me, with all his hair and sweat. Never could I convince him I loved his earthy smells and that the salt of his sweat was to me the salt of the sea.

When I discovered how they had acted treacherously, and had not included in their apology the attempt at breaking Gimli’s heart, I sent out a decree, that in that settlement, no dwarvish crafts could be purchased, and they could only rely on the lower quality works crafted by Men or even themselves. A fund would be also be set aside so that the Dwarvish settlement nearby would not suffer from the loss of trade.

oooOOOOooo

  
After Legolas gave me his underclothes, I turned away from him as I washed them. I could feel his eyes on me but dared not turn to face him. I did not want to become aroused at the sight of the long lean lines of his limbs in the tub. I did not want to forget myself and begin to touch him and let myself be touched with the grime of travel still upon me. I had avoided the deep pools of his eyes from the time we entered our chamber to avoid falling into them.

I knew what he gave up when he took a Dwarf as a lover instead of another Elf. Whenever I kissed him, his mouth was as nectar, the sighs of his breath like the summer wind. He would gasp as I mouthed his lower parts, his seed was tart, with the taste of honey infused. Hungrily, I would run my tongue from his neck, to his chest, lapping at the buds of his nipples and squeezing them between my teeth. The taste of his skin was intoxicating and with the patience of a craftsman I would nip at him, and bite at his sensitive ears, till he arched from the ground, as taut as his bow. My tongue would collect the seeping nectar from the slit of his shaft. Like this, with my tongue I could make him come undone, without the touch of my hand or my tool.

I knew my lover desired me, but I was not of the Firstborn. I knew we were the ‘stunted ones’. My smells and sweat were of the earth, and I had heard his companions mock me and mock his choice of lover. By Mahal, they knew the heart chose on its own, but it pained me to be the cause of such mockery and their Elvish disgust at my sweat and hairiness was like an arrow in my heart. That night I had returned to our chamber and lain awake till his return, when I feigned sleep.

I had resolved from that day, to never give him cause for disgust in my body. I was sturdy and strong, and I knew he loved my prowess in battle, though those days had passed. I knew he even loved my hair. At every opportunity, the hair on my head, my beard or the hair of my body, had his fingers running gently through it. On summer days with my sleeves rolled up, he would stroke the hairs of my arms as I held him from behind as we rode. On torrid nights in hidden glades, he took delight in turning my body into an Elvish instrument. His fingers drew from me notes of desire, from low moans to keening and whimpering with passion, the breathy pleas for release.

I knew he loved to run his tongue over my body, his eyes would light up and a wicked fey smile would curl on his lips as he looked into my eyes and swallowed me whole, all the while gently rolling my testicles sending shocks of pleasure through my body then swallowing my release.

He would breathe into my armpits, into my beard, my hair. Ai Mahal, he would even dart his tongue into hidden places, easing the ring of muscle and slicking me, preparing for entry with his tongue.

His silken hair would sweep along my thighs as his tongue carried out its ministrations. It would leave me trembling and begging, Legolas, please. And with a tingle of lighting coming down my nipples to my groin, down the back of my legs he would breach me, then ride me. He would ride me with strength and grace then cast us both into that void, causing light to burst behind my eyes, causing Dwarvish words to be on my lips together with the kisses of his mouth.

ooooOOOoooo

As I made my way down to the privy, I thought how of Elves rarely carried out bodily functions, as if a part of them were already no longer part of Middle Earth. Of course, he shat as we do, but he was so discrete. In the Fellowship, we had had to dig holes and use leaves to roughly clean ourselves. Legolas’ steps were so light, you could never hear him get up in the night, and as he quickly squatted there was no stench, just the smell of composting plants.

As I sat on the privy and I could hear the sounds of the inn about us, still lively. I wiped with the moss provided, then washed my hands and returned to our room.

Legolas was still soaking in the tub. I quickly washed my linen and socks then hung them beside his by the fireplace. I scrubbed my teeth with the small brush and powder from my pack and spat into a small bowl. I stepped into the small tub in which I had washed our linen. I wet my body. Then I took the soap and scrubbed under my arms. I squatted down in the small tub and washed my back, I soaped my balls and gave two soapy strokes of my hardening member then attended to my buttocks and the cleft. I dipped into the water then with the final, now lukewarm water remaining in the bucket I rinsed myself off. I stood and stepped out. I placed the small bowl into the tub I had stepped out of and then covered the grey water with the cloth which had been used to keep the water in the larger tub warm.

ooooOOOoooo

"My love," I said quietly. His back was turned towards me and he had taken the soap and was washing his underclothes and socks. The rhythmic motion of Gimli washing the linen was like the lapping of the waves on the shore, but here with him, the sea madness was but in the furthest corners of my mind. He anchored me to Middle Earth. As his beard turned to grey it was as seams of silver in a mine of copper.

I watched as he quickly washed himself with his back to me then he stood up and turned to look at me, with his eyes questioning.

I sat up and reached my hand out to him and he stepped into the larger tub and joined me in the warm water. I leaned forward to kiss him as he sat with his back against the opposite side of the tub. With a splash he got onto his knees and with his arms bracing him on either side, roughly kissed me. I spread my legs and drew him close.

“Lad, I’ve been waiting all day to do this,” he murmured against my lips. He was pressed close to my chest and in the water my sex began to swell and press against his thigh. He reached into my hair and undid the braids there as I reached across and unbraided his beard, but left in his marriage bead.

My heart beat faster as Gimli took the water cupped in his hand and sweetly poured it over my head. He sat back down and leaned back, and I pressed Gimli’s head down under the water for a second. He came up with his smile still serene and his hair and beard plastered over his chest and back, like a dark red creeping plant over a boulder.  
I smiled and ran a finger over the tattoo of a green leaf over his heart and he did the same over the double-sided axe on my breast.

“Thou darest mark a son of Thranduil, foul Dwarf!” father had roared at Gimli after discovering the mark and here in the tub Gimli repeated the words.

I kissed him again remembering his reply to Thranduil.

“I dare greatly.”

Both our peoples had eventually grown used to our love. At first, we had thought to divide our time between our people and to meet each other at intervals as our duties permitted. After the first such separation, I had sickened and after two weeks, my sire feared I would be lost due to grief. Gimli had taken south a part of the Dwarf folk of Erebor after the fall of Sauron and become Lord of the Glittering Caves. A rider was sent, and Gimli was fetched with haste.

After that the Elves had accepted his staying with me, firstly for my sake, then for his own. The fierce glare Gimli gave was enough to silence the argument from the part of the Dwarves and I became ‘Dwarf friend’ as he was ‘Elf friend. I happily joined the merry gatherings and caroused in the halls. In glittering caves did Gimli begin whispering to me the words of the secret dwarven tongue, not the few words that slip out in passion but with intent. Some dwarves were scandalized at the taboo, but when it became clear that I understood the sacred trust of their tongue, they once again felt free to speak in my presence. In Ithilien together with the Elves I had brought south from Greenwood, we also spent time and over the years had become part of one another.

Here in the tub his kisses were now slow and languid. There was familiarity and friendship intermingled with the passion.

“Mellon” he said as he gently kissed the tip of my nose. Friend.

Gimli still pretended to be gruff and impatient with me, but he and I knew he would do anything I desired, and he knew my only desire was his happiness.

I washed his hair and beard in the water and ran my hands all over his wet body. He smiled then stepped out of the tub. He rubbed the rough towel over his body and then gently dried his hair and beard as I watched.

oooOOOooo

I reached out and took Legolas’ hand. He stood up and the water flowed back into the tub in rivulets. His beautiful body was lit by the dying glow of the fire and he glowed lightly of his own accord. His body had a light path of hair from his stomach down towards the curls lower down. His cock was half hard and I resisted running my tongue over the dark pink, wet head.

I dried him with the rough towel I had used. I took out the oil from our pack. At this he salaciously raised his eyebrows. I gently knocked his forehead then put a small amount on my palms and rubbed it over his body.

I took some of the oil again and oiled myself lightly, then my beard and my hair and lastly his hair, with what remained on my hands. Finally, I took the comb and we sat on the bed as I brushed through the Elf’s hair and tied it into one long braid and tied it off with a thin leather thong and replaced his marriage bead.

“I would see your face.”

I reached back and began to braid my own hair, but the Elf stilled my hand and said,  
“I wish to feel your locks on my skin. I wish to touch your hair.”

“As long as you know that in the morning you are brushing out the knots,” I replied,

ooooOOOOoooo

As they climbed into bed, Legolas stroked the mithril corslet on the chair beside the bed. Mithril is the Elvish name, the Dwarves do not speak of its true name. Its worth was beyond price and the corslet of Moria-silver had been given to Gimli by Frodo when he crossed the sea. To have a mortal lover was to fear his time could be cut short. Legolas had urged Gimli to wear it always beneath his clothing. The corslet was a kingly garment, though seen only ever by Legolas. It was light as air to wear and provided reassurance to Legolas, so gladly did Gimli wear it always. He had spent hours in his smithy, making careful adjustment to its rings. With care, he worked around the jewels, so that he could adjust it to fit his frame.

I reached over to Gimli and drew him near. I combed through his still damp beard and braided into it an Elvish love knot with the Dwarvish marriage bead at the centre. All the while Gimli sat still, his eyes fighting sleep. I said to him,

“my love, I know you are weary. Sleep now.”

At that, he sleepily climbed under the covers. I sat up in the bed and stroked his hair, until his breathing slowed, and the soft sounds of sleep came from Gimli. Warm and heavy he lay, half atop me.

After the War of the Ring, Gimli had not slept well at night. He would be struck by night terrors and relive the horrors we had seen on the battlefield and the fears and griefs we had faced along the way.

At night he had dreamt of orcs, and the smells of battle filled his dreams. Awaking twitching, I would be cradling him and kissing the sweat from his brow. The following nights would be filled with the strains of sweet Elvish singing and his spirit was restored. Over the years, he had been healed of the hurt and weariness of grief.

The previous night before we had reached the inn we had slept out in the open. We had bedded down on a pallet of soft vegetation, covered by our cloaks. We had spoken of the battles of old and their old competition.

As he was falling asleep Gimli had murmured,  
“So you like to shoot arrows between my legs? Then you shall get your chance tomorrow in Bree.”

Gimli had nestled Legolas into his arms and fallen asleep thus. Just before first light Legolas moved Arod from the bower of trees that had served as shelter for the night, to beside a small stream that he might drink. Legolas had decided to climb to the topmost branches of the highest tree to both greet the dawn, and also to see along the path they were to travel that day.

When the dawn chorus began, he heard Gimli on the ground beneath him wake with a start and call out,

“No!”

He quickly leapt down from branch to branch, disturbing the leaves in his haste, then stood before Gimli who was trembling and frantically looking around. He gripped him then scanned him for injury or illness. The dwarf reeked of fear. Surely the dreams had not returned after all this time.

“I couldn’t see Arod, and you were gone” he murmured into Legolas’ chest as he embraced him. Understanding dawned and constricted his chest. Without a word, Legolas gentled him and stroked his hair. The morning hunting was done within Gimli’s line of sight and he had not left his side for a moment since then.

ooooOOOOoooo

In the early hours of the day, when the grey of dawn had not yet blazed into colour, the door of their room at the inn opened with a gentle creak. Legolas’ Elven ears had heard all that passed before.

“Shh, I don’t want to wake him.”

“Dull witted boy, after all these years know you not elves do not sleep?”

“I don’t want to see…them, their…love.”

“Do you not already see their love? Hast thou ever seen a dwarf with flowers in his hair and beard and look happy about it beneath his frowns? Thus, it was the last time they came riding here.”

Legolas was sitting up in the bed, and had already put on his own underclothes, and pulled up the sheet over Gimli to spare the blushes of the younger inn servant. Barliman Butterbur had been an innkeeper too long to be shocked by anything.

Legolas gave a gentle smile to both as they entered the room. The one brought in a tray and placed it on the sideboard. It was laid with a large bowl of porridge and a plate of fruit and cheeses as well as soft rolls and butter. Two boiled eggs also lay on the tray next to the flask of fruit juice. The other brought in a bowl with a covered pitcher of hot water and placed it by the table which stood by the bed. Gimli did not wake.

Both gave a bow and went to carry away the small tub of water and quietly left the room carrying it between them and leaving the door open. The sound of the water splashing on the cobbles below or of the tub being swilled out did not cause Gimli to stir, and the approaching footsteps drew closer, re-entered the room, replaced the empty tub and left again with a bow and closed the door without having caused the slightest of disturbances to his bedfellow.

Legolas recalled with some embarrassment their first visit to this inn. An Elf and a Dwarf travelling alone together had still been a cause of wonder. Gimli’s discomfiture at the looks and whispers had caused his visage to look even more stern and fierce. It was not a wonder then that the inn keeper together with three of the burlier patrons had charged up into their room that first night at the sounds of their ‘fighting’.

Mr Butterebur had roared, “I don’t want no dead Elves and no dead Dwarves neither in this here inn!” as he burst through the door. A moment of stunned silence had fallen upon the four at the door and the two upon the bed.

Legolas had been hilt deep in Gimli and it was easy to understand how Gimli’s moans and his own whimpering could have been misunderstood. The door had slammed shut quickly and Legolas had heard the sounds of one falling down the stairs in his haste to retreat.

However, from that day it was clear to all how it was with them, and there had never been another intrusion.

ooooOOOoooo

Gimli knew the elf had slept the fey sleep of his people, with his eyes dark and glazed over and his mind wandering on another plane of existence. If indeed he had slept at all that night.

Days after their first bonding, Legolas had asked how it was that Gimli was no longer disturbed by slight noises in the night as when they had been travelling companions.

Gimli had tapped the side of Legolas’ head with his knuckles and said,  
“When an unsleeping elf sits watch in my bed, what is the point of sleeping the light slumber of the battlefield? Thou shalt wake me if thou hast need of my tool, or if there is anything of import.”

No sound or dream had disturbed his slumber. When he woke, Gimli found coming in through the window of the inn, the light of day about Legolas’ head, like a crown of light. Gimli jumped out of bed to quickly brush his teeth, then made his way back under the covers. Gimli undid the braid and let the silken hair flow over his hands. Legolas’ breath was hot in my ear as he whispered,  
“Did not our Lady say thine hands shall flow with gold?”

Gimli pulled his lover down from his seated position to lay him on the bed, then rolled over and his sturdy weight pinned Legolas to the mattress. He caught his wrists and pinned them by his side and held fast.

“And that gold should have no dominion over me?”

With that Legolas started to grind his hips and said,

“Nay, we have dominion over each other.”

“Unguarded you leave your gates, now come the Dwarves to plunder,” Gimli whispered as he crawled down the Elf’s body under the cover.

“Baruk Khâzad, Khâzad ai-mênu!” he growled. The words translate to “the axes of the Dwarves, the Dwarves are upon you!” They were the only words of Dwarvish in common knowledge in Middle Earth and some heard as their last words that famous Dwarvish battle cry.

Gimli continued in a low voice, “such wanton destruction shall be dealt this day.”  
Legolas pulled off his undershirt and could feel Gimli using his teeth and hands to pull down the linen on his nether regions.

Legolas laughed. “You come as a warrior but verily, my elvish glamour shall transform you into a farmer. Indeed, it is a fey and powerful magic and I prophesy that you shall be ploughing me willingly before this battle ends.”

Legolas licked the ridge of skin behind my balls but not yet my crevice. With his teeth, gently he tugged at the hairs. The waves of pleasure were now throbbing through me, I was afraid that at that alone I might spill my seed, but he took his fingers and gripped me tight about the base of my member. ‘Oh no, Gimli. Thou hast yet a field to plough.”

Legolas took some of the oil onto one finger. He crouched above me, and tilted his head to one side, a wicked smile lighting up his eyes. With one hand he rubbed over the hair on my chest, rubbing against my hard nipples. With the other hand and with a look of amusement, he pushed past the ring of muscle and crooked his finger.

“Dwarf doors should not be this easy to penetrate.”

I groaned into his shoulder as I pressed down against his finger. The sound vibrated through me. He found that place within me and over and over I cried out.

“Khazâd! Khazâd!”

oooOOOOooo

His eyes were closed and mouth open. His cheek was darkly flushed, and the movement of my finger drew a deep groan from his chest as I brought him to the edge.

I panted, trying to slow the rolling tide of my own loins.

Leaning his forehead against mine, we shared an intimate breath of air. And he whispered his love across my chest, his mouth moving across my skin. Then I pulled hard on his beard.

He wrestled free then I lay on my back and spread my legs, tucking my hips forward. I poured oil on his member and reached back to prepare myself, my other hand still within him. He grabbed my wrist and held still my hand. He pressed the head of his cock upon my opening and gently pushed against it. Soon he breached me and moved slowly, inch by inch, until he was buried to the root, trembling all the while.

I set up a slow rhythm. His lowing was from deep within his chest and had a note of desperation as we rocked together, for many long minutes we moved thus. His spirit flowed into mine, then back again.

In secret (a secret which unlike the Elves, they did not willingly unlock, even to their friends) Dwarves used their own strange tongue, and they tended it and guarded it as a treasure of the past. Gimli’s own name, however, and the names of all his kin, are of Mannish origin. Their own secret and ‘inner’ names, their true names, the Dwarves have never revealed to any one of alien race. Not even on their tombs do they inscribe them.

After we were bonded, Gimli had taken me again to the Glittering Caves. There in the silence he had whispered his true name into my ear. At first, I had not comprehended. Gimli had stilled, and when my eyes grew wide in understanding he smiled, the gems of the cave reflected in both our eyes by the light of the lamp.

Here at the inn at Bree, I drew close to my lover. I kissed his head, damp from our exertions, then wordlessly, my mouth formed the shape of the syllables of his dark name, his secret name. He moaned low at the sight of it.

“Ay, lad. Tis my true name.”

I urged him to take me harder, faster, then he cried out, spent. I reached for my own finish and the seed splashed on his chest. With a languid hand he rubbed it into his skin. As he softened inside me, I did not let him go but took out my finger carefully and held him and kissed his face. Sated, we lay together and finally, slowly Gimli relaxed into sleep on my chest.

As he slept, I had wiped the stickiness from his chest and both our privy parts with a cloth. Still, when he woke an hour later, again he washed using the small bowl on the bedside table, then having pulled on his clothes and boots, went downstairs again to use the privy, not willing to use the chamber pot under the bed.

He sat on the edge of the bed, his feet not touching the ground. I sat cross legged behind him with the comb. I pushed his long red hair to the side and bit the white neck.

“There is no need to mark me, mellon. By my ravished demeanour will all know I’ve been bedded by an Elf. Aye, thoroughly debauched by a Prince of Elves. And by the contentment on your visage will they know a dwarf has long and skilfully laboured.”

As I had promised I now parted his hair into many sections. Starting from the bottom I gently teased out the knots and tangles of the night and from our lovemaking. When one section was done, I would move onto the next. He sat still as I brushed and spoke of the day we had planned. His hair I braided in the Dwarvish style and secured with soft, malleable gold bands, but his beard I combed out and braided into it once more the Elvish love knot, with the Dwarvish marriage bead at its centre.

ooooOOOoooo

Legolas sang as he combed my hair, a tune of his own composition, praising the glittering caves. It was a low, languid tune, and spoke of how, with his body, he had wed me there.

I had brought the tray of food to the bed and fed him fruit as he worked on my hair, holding up the cup to him at intervals that he might drink. When he had finished braiding, I turned and put into his hair two simple braids on the side and one behind, with his marriage bead. I ate my fill leaving him the eggs. I did not want my breath to smell.

“Nay lad, thou must have the eggs. About you always is a transparent look, as if the wind needs but blow to take you, especially when astride that horse. As it is my sworn duty to protect thee, I hold thee tight always, with much fear, to stop a gust from taking thee. The eggs will help to weigh thee down and provide some ballast.”

At this Legolas smiled, but there was now something in his eyes.

The years together had passed like the swift draughts of ale. We had travelled widely between Dwarvish, Elvish and settlements of Man in the effort to rebuild.

As high Lords it was our right to travel with an entourage and to be greeted with pomp and ceremony, but we eschewed that. For formal visits, often we travelled separately from the main procession, only riding to join the group when the group was arriving at the gates of whichever city it was we were due to grace. As a battlefield seasoned Dwarf and one with the keen senses and quick reflexes of the Elves, we did not fear danger on the roads. The darker evils had departed with the destruction of Sauron, and common footpads did not dare approach a pair such as us as we rode.

We left the inn and pressed on with all possible speed having had a later departure than planned. As ever the Elf sang as he rode. At first, the singing of the Elves had irritated me and I thought it typically flighty and a sign of their having their heads in the clouds and no practical virtues. Now, with my arms around Legolas and my ear to his back, I could hear the words reverberating not only in his chest, but seemingly in the sky around him. The trees seemed to join in a melody just beyond my hearing.

Legolas stopped his song.

“Gimli, let me tell you a story. Let me tell it without interruption, please. I met some Dwarves who had found a new mine. It was filled with mithril. However, there were also some lesser gems such as opal. For that reason, I told them to cave in the mine and never to return to it.”

Gimli was silent, then spoke.

“When did this happen and why dost thou only speak of it now? As a Dwarvish Lord why was I not informed of this? Your tale is strange.”

Legolas replied,

“Aye, it is strange. We shall speak more of it when we camp tonight.”

At this Legolas took up his song once more but as they continued their long ride towards the Shire, he began again.

“Gimli, one of the young Lords of Rohan has come of age. For a fair price, in a smithy I saw a sword and thought to get it as a gift. The workmanship was fine, not of Dwarvish quality but well-wrought. The balance was fair, and the grip was sound. A noble sword it was. I paid my coin and took my leave, then noticed what I had failed to espy in the gloom of the smithy. The hilt had no jewel, the sword was unworthy! Yea, verily, upon the ground I cast it, and with my own feet did trample it. Indeed, I did bid Arod that he ride upon it, that it might be trampled deeper into the ground. Heartily and with gusto did he trample it into the mud and now it shall be seen no more upon the earth. That lack of adornment marred it so.”

Gimli did not respond to this with anything more than a grunt and they continued their ride in silence.

Slowly, above the sky grew lighter and the cloud broke but in the early-afternoon the clouds drew lower and it began to rain heavily. We rode for many hours and the miles went by. Hours passed and still we rode on in the rain.

“Elf, can you do nothing about this deluge?”

“It is raining Master Dwarf and it will continue to rain until the rain is done.”

“Gimli,” Legolas started up again, the water now streaming into his face. “I met a man, while working in the gardens. He told me that he had met a companion. A woman who owned her own bakery. She was modest and kind and the ideal partner for him in life. Both of them were mature in years. During the war her betrothed had been a soldier. She had lain with him, but one day in battle he had been killed. She was no longer a maid! He himself had taken lovers in the past, though never pledged his troth. ‘But she is not a maid!’ I shouted at him when he sought my counsel. I shook my fist and cried out ‘Harlot! Faithless! Whore! My good man, yoke yourself not to such a one! Whore! Faithless!’ Legolas re-enacted the hand gestures of the scene and at that Arod’s ears went back in fright. Gimli could feel Legolas shaking with suppressed laughter and he held on behind him. ‘Unclean! Harlot! Faithless!’ I called out until my voice was hoarse and I fell asleep from the strain of it.”

At this Gimli again just huffed, but made no response and continued to ride the long miles. They did not stop for a meal and Legolas sang as they rode then began another tale.

“Gimli, I met a Man in a tavern, together with a group working on the gardens of Rohan. Fair minded was he, humorous, sensible and just. I had thought to make him a foreman of the team of gardeners but when he laughed, lo, I beheld he had many missing teeth. Nay, at that very instant I turned my back upon him. ‘Begone! I spat at him then cast him into the night.’ Verily, I did.”

The rain had stopped, and the sun was now high overhead and we stopped to water Arod and to partake of the simple meal we had been given to carry from the inn. Legolas spoke as I ate.

“Your people guard closely the secrets of Dwarvish women so I shall speak only of Elves and Men. Did you know Gimli, that women bleed from their lower parts? Among the Elves it is not so. A child is conceived when both mother and father wish it to be. I know with the children of Man, however, the women have monthly courses. I met a man, in that same tavern, who loved a maid. He wished to take her to wife. ‘Nay, I told him Nay! They are unclean. Know you not that they bleed from the lower parts?’ Being an Elf, we always have bells about our person. I rang one. ‘Unclean! Unclean!’ I rang the bell and called out until I was tired from my exertions and fell asleep from the strain of it.”

Finally, I had had enough and roared at Legolas. “Said you none of those things! I know you are no fool despite your wooden head.”

Legolas then looked at me and said gently, “You recognise these tales for untruths. Why then does your own heart not purge the lies you tell yourself?”

His words struck me. After many long moments I said to him, “Legolas, I know you are my bonded and you will never cast me aside. I fear only that your regard may lessen and that mayhap out of duty will you remain by my side. Daily I tremble at the thought of what a great treasure I have in you, and fear greatly the thought of its loss.”

“Let us press on,” said Legolas and gently stroked my nose. “We shall speak again of this at evening.”

As we rode, I pondered how to form my words that they might reach Gimli. Dusk deepened and we came into a glade. Over the hill, far in the distance I saw the Shire. Waiting for us would be Merry and Pippin, our companions of old. To see their children, to sing the old songs and of the deeds of their friends and talk again of days gone by, was a reward greatly to be desired. It was a chance to grieve for Boromir and to speak of those who had gone ahead to the West. I spoke little at any other time of those who had already passed across the sea. The sea-longing had been awoken in me and only Gimli kept me on these shores.’

In the dark,“Hai!” called Gimli and with a touch Arod slowed. In our practiced way we alighted, and Gimli walked over to a bush to make water.

I stood beside him and forced out a trickle. “The plant gives thanks for the renewed rains.” I laughed.

ooooOOOoooo

With his keen eyes, even in the firelight Legolas could always find the soft heather on which we could bed down when sleeping under the stars.

“Aye, we’ll camp here laddie,” I said. “I’ll get a fire going. We can get some sleep and we will start at first light.”

As in the days of the Fellowship, before we had dared to name our friendship love, we camped under the wide sky. Taking my axe, I cut several branches and lashed them about with spare bowstrings, spreading the Elf’s cloak upon the frame. My own cloak I lay on the springy heather, having fashioned a pillow of another pile of soft heather on one end.

Legolas gave thanks even as his arrow caught the hare, and I skinned and prepared it over the fire, adding salt and spice from a pouch I kept in my pack.

I was waiting for the Elf to begin the conversation he had promised all day, but to my surprise, after our repast he drew close and bit my lower lip and pulled and licked and teased. Just as suddenly he put his head into my lap. Over my trousers he pressed his mouth over my groin. His hands ran over my flanks and the trails of his touch burned through my clothes. With a slow trace of his fingertips his thumb moved in a slow circle about my hips. My trousers tented as my member grew hard again and strained against my garment. He gently bit me over my trousers and left me feeling as if I were close to falling into a chasm.

“Nay, Legolas, let me take you in hand. We have been riding all day in this heat and I am not fresh.”

Legolas took a spare bow string from his pouch. He put the end in his mouth and maintained eye contact with me as he tied a knot in it using only his tongue then winked at me. I felt a frisson ripple through me.

I addressed Legolas.

“I know what you are about. You know we are a people who remember long, and that I remember the words of your companions long ago and that they did wound me.”

Legolas nodded solemnly and listened as I sat beside him. When I had started speaking he had taken my hand.

I continued, “I do not wish to give myself cause to weep and regret, that for the sake my pleasure, I caused your love for me to grow cold, and for you to agree with your companions.”

Legolas started to speak but I pressed a finger on the soft lips and carried on speaking.

“I am from deep in the Earth and not as innately refined as are your kind, and I never wish to cause you disgust or for you to repent your choice of mate.”

At this Legolas protested but I replied.

“Legolas, do you recall that once you said, ‘I would give gold to be excused and would pay double to be let out if I strayed in’. Thus, you spoke of the Glittering Caves, yet have repented your words and Khaled-Zâram has now in your heart a place of honour. How then can I trust your words of reassurance? Allow me this. No foul smell and no foul taste would you have of me, but pleasure I would still give you.”

oooOOOooo

I could smell his arousal and I could see his prick growing hard.

I ignored my desire as I needed first to reaffirm my commitment to him in his understanding.

“Gimli, by the joining of our bodies and the declaration of our love, we were wed according to the custom of the Elves. That notwithstanding, did I not still court afterwards you in accordance with Dwarf custom, for many long months? You feared I would tire of you but for many moons I still pursued you in the long, slow, cautious courtship of your people.”

“Your folklore tells you ‘beware of the elves, they will tumble you and leave you to wake with only a handful of grass’. You feared I would leave you ‘after I got my wicked way’ as that is what you had been taught. There is much enmity still between our people, and they tell tales of foolishness and spread misinformation born of ignorance or malice, but the tales still have the power to hurt.”

I could see that his eyes were shining with unshed tears. O Elbereth!. This veteran of many battles had been wounded most grievously by the invisible barbs.

“You think ever of the loss I experience at not having taken an Elvish bond-mate. But pray tell. Are you not a Lord of your people? Are you not held in high esteem? Truly, not all Dwarves marry. Some are married to their craft and others find not their heart’s desire, thus marry not. But surely a Dwarf maiden would have taken you as her noble husband. Would you not have by now a brood of children sitting about your hearth?”

“You fear that your natural smells will repel me. Did you know that upon mortal men I can smell sickness? Not only sickness unto death but the mild distempers that touch all mortal beings. It is a smell as of blight in a garden. When I smell it, even in another the fear comes to me that this may be the swift illness that carries you off.”

“The smells of vitality, of sweat and life never will never turn me away from you.”

“If you wish to bathe before certain kinds of lovemaking, so be it, but do not forget that you have taken as a lover one of the Firstborn. Flighty and quick to jest we may be, but in matters of import we are as consistent and steady as thine own people.”

I could see that Gimli was listening intently. He had his whetstone and was sharpening his axe as I spoke, but I knew it to be a habit of nervousness and not an indication that he wished to make use of the blade against me.

“I linger here for love of you but ofttimes I fear that I may die here in Middle Earth and thus be swept up to the halls of Valinor, never to join again my kin in the West. Should my life here end prematurely we would not have the chance to attempt to sail West together. Does that make my regard for thee diminish?” At this I kissed him. I kept my hands still, by my side, so that he knew it was not a distraction from our conversation or a precursor to lovemaking. Again, and again I kissed him until his lips were pink and lightly bruised.

“Gimli, if we sail West, thou mayst have the chance to learn at the hands of Aulë, but still thou mayst have given up an afterlife in the halls of your fathers. We do not know with certainty what fate awaits us there. Mayhap you may join the Dwarves when the rebuilding of the new world begins as is ordained. Does my heart clench in fear that you may one day reject me that you may pass into the afterlife of your kind? Nay, never do I doubt thine steadfastness, for I know you not to be faithless, but I feel keenly what you give up.”

Gimli sat and considered Legolas’ words then said “Matters of love and of pleasure can be separated in Elves in a way that is not native to my people. An Elf may find pleasure where there is no love.”

“I agree,” said Legolas, gently caressing Gimli’s calloused hands. “Indeed, our ways are often different. Your people find it unclean to put the mouth upon the lower parts and did I not have to gently teach you my ways? Remember how you cried out ‘you want to do what to my jacksie!’ I also did fear your disgust, but I know you to be one who is of age and can state your pleasure and displeasure. If you had found that you could find no joy in taking me in your mouth, or in putting your tongue within me, I should have missed those kinds of lovemaking but found pleasure in you still.”

“You lack the parts of a woman, Gimli, and those parts have delighted me in days past, but never have I mourned them, or wished your dusky rosebuds to be soft breasts to be worked in my hand. You are my beloved with all your parts, in the form that you are. You are my beloved and I am thine.”

Legolas sat cross legged in front of me and his eyes shone with earnestness as he said these words. He took both my hands and cupped them in his. Unbidden, tears had begun to stream down my face and into my beard.

A tender look passed between us. “Save me from the stubbornness of Dwarves,” Gimli said. My pride will be my downfall.”

At that, Legolas stretched his feet out beside me. His long limbs splaying far beyond mine. The top of my head came only to his chest, and he leaned me against me and for a long while held me.

Legolas paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts.

He said to me,

“I put it to you again. Why knowest thou my tales for fabrications yet the tales generated by thine own mind, thou cannot see for falsehoods? My love for you took me by surprise, I cannot pinpoint the day I knew it for what it was, but I have always wanted every part of you. Every part. I would not have you carve yourself up and serve me those parts you consider choice and burying the remainder. Sooner would I have it that you cleaved my head from my body.”

“The matter of our difference is a weighty one and I did not mean to make mock, but perhaps only by exaggeration, can the falsehood of your mind’s position be known. You won’t push me away, save by faithlessness, and that is not within thee. Our Lady saw even that when she named thee ‘Elf friend’. We have both sacrificed much to have our love but gained much. More than I had ever imagined,”

I did not press Gimli but waited until he was ready to look up, then stroked his cheek until he looked into my eyes.

Gimli said “You walk in starlight; you belong to another world. I have turned my eyes to a treasure no less dear than the treasure of Thengol that Beren once desired. Such is my fate.”

“Gimli, Years ago, you said we would speak no more of this fear you have of my regard for you lessening until many years have passed. Now many years have passed, yet still the fear gnaws at you. I have not and shall not repent of taking a Dwarf as my love, and each part of you is dear to me. Though my fellows may desire dark haired Elf maidens, with the glow of the moon about them and honeysuckle breath, my desire is for Gimli.”

Legolas looked lovingly at Gimli. “You are what I desire and there is no turning back. At times I will have a wooden head and you shall have a stiff neck, but this is an unchangeable position in my heart. Fair Arwen has chosen death, yet still delights in her lord. Willingly she takes the afterlife of men and is parted forever from her sire.”

“We have not been given that choice by the Valar. If they permit it, you shall sail with me. If they permit it not, I shall either sail West or die and go to the Halls of Mandos in Valinor. Thine people are gathered up by Mahal and rest in his halls. Perhaps we meet briefly in the Halls of the dead. Perhaps after the breaking of the World, when the Dwarves would rebuild Arda and restore her to her full glory, we may be reunited. We do not know what fate awaits us, but until then only death can separate us.”

“Dwarves were said by Illuvatar to be inferior to Elves and Man, but the evidence of my eyes says it is not so, and your nature is not one that I would wish to twist to be other than it is. You would not wish to craft a diamond in the way one would gold. I would not wish you to be an Elvish lover when I have taken you to be my Dwarf. It troubles me deeply that you should hold to the evil words of my kinsmen and let them allow you to doubt the constancy of my love.”

I know he feared because the Elves can love widely, we can love in play, in companionship and comradeship, in lust and that in the days before there have been others in my bed.

“But know this. There shall be none after you, my heart cannot fathom it.”  
In the dark, I began to take off his clothes. I whispered into his ear, “Loyalty, honour and a willing heart. When my heart called to yours it answered. I can ask no more than that. The bonds of affection will not be so easily broken. Defeat the enemy of doubt in thine heart let it not find a foothold there. Here is one I shall call ever mine.”

“Gimli, I shall take the words they used against you. Their barbs shall be reforged into your mithril crown. Yes, you are my small bear, you are fierce, and you spirit is greater than that of any other I know. We shall not live in fear the taunts of our countrymen or begin to believe again the tales of the cradle.”

Together in the grass we lay. The fire was red and flaming it spread within me. My completion was devastating in its intensity. Voiceless he cried out. My love’s passion was as a seam of gold, I followed the path to our pleasure, thrusting and licking and touching and being touched.

O Elbereth!

The morning was bright and clear about us and soon we made for the East Farthing woods. The rolling hills and little rivers of the Shire stood before us, but Home was always with him.

With an arrow he caught fish for our breakfast and then we drank the clear water of the stream. Deeply did I kiss his mouth.

Gimli belched long and low after the repast, then smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> Notes
> 
> Many of the lines and descriptions are taken from the books and movies, especially Lord of the Rings - Appendix F (Dwarf Lore).
> 
> I have read many fics, which has, of course, shaped how I see these two. My headcannon for their first time is Chamber of Lovers by Adina.  
> They say of the Elves by Brancher – a beautiful fic about the prejudices Dwarves and Elves hold and how Gimli was afraid Legolas would ‘love him and leave him’. Journey by Morai is also another favourite. From One Age to Another by Determamfidd tells of when they got tattoos.
> 
> I will respond to comments, they are very welcome.
> 
> Edit: After writing this I came across 'Scent of a Dwarf' by keelywolf https://archiveofourown.org/chapters/51151531?show_comments=true&view_full_work=false#comment_268913266 
> 
> The story is now in my headcannon for this version of them.
> 
> Edit: If you enjoyed the story I would love to hear your feedback! Thanks.


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